One Last Dance
by Pie for President '16
Summary: They'd been together for seventy years, they've watched their adopted and biological children grow up. They watch them become parents themselves, and they couldn't be any prouder. But they needed to have one last dance before sleeping.


This is my first one-shot in a long time! Please R&R. 

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"Monica." A hoarse voice spoke out, shaking the fragile figure laying next to him in their bed. Monica Geller-Bing opened her eyes and looked at him wearily.

"What?" Her voice rasped. She was getting tired, she was tired all the time now. These days, she never went anywhere; she just traveled from her bed to the TV with the assistance of a nurse. The same went for her husband of seventy years.

_Seventy years, that was amazing._ Those seventy years seemed to have lasted an eternity, but it still seemed like just yesterday they got married. Her brain was getting fuzzy in some places, but she knew it had been seventy years, because they got married in 2001 and the year on the calendar was 2071.

"Let's dance." Chandler struggled to sit up in bed, grabbing his walker.

"Dance? Are you crazy, Chandler? We can't even stand up without help."

Chandler grunted, pushing himself off the bed and stood slightly steady with the support of his walker.

"Come on, Monica." He pushed himself towards her side of the bed and held out one hand for her to use as support. She slowly reached out and held on, pulling back the sheet and sitting up.

"I'm ready to sleep, Chandler." Monica stood up and held on to the walker.

"I want to sleep too, Mon. But I think we have to do this." His eyes looked into hers knowingly, and she knew he was thinking the same thing. It was time for them to go, their life on Earth was over and they had to make the next great big journey.

Monica stepped around the walker so she was standing next to Chandler, who placed one of her hands on the handle and her other on his back, and he did the same.

"We don't have any music." Monica pointed out when they started swaying.

"Music? Monica, we're practically deaf. Any music we play will just piss people off because of its loudness!"

"I miss being able to hear."

"I miss being able to walk."

The two remained silent, arm in arm with a free hand on the walker.

"I love you, Monica." Chandler whispered, kissing her white hair.

"I love you too, Chandler." Monica rested her head on his shoulder, humming quietly.

"You've gotten better at this." She commented a few minutes later, her head still on his shoulder.

"Well, I _do_ have support of the walker." He tried to joke, but the laughter turned into a cough.

"Maybe we should get back in bed."

"I'm not ready to get back into bed, Mon." Chandler held her closer.

"We have to, Chandler. It's time." She looked into his eyes, which was brimming with tears.

"We're doing this together. Just like in that movie."

"Did you know the actors hated one another?"

"You can't remember where you keep your shirts, but you remember the drama?" Monica rolled her eyes and laughed.

"Well, my brain decides to retain some memory while getting rid of others." Chandler attempted to make another joke, but Monica hit him with as much force as she could for her century-old hand.

"It's not funny, Chandler. We're old, we're dying, and you want to make _jokes_."

"I'm sorry, you're right."

"Monica, can you promise me something?"

"Anything, Chandler."

"Will you wait for me?"

Monica knew what he was talking about, and she slowly nodded.

"As long as you wait for me. Are you ready yet?"

"Yeah, I think I am."

With that, Monica fell back into the bed while Chandler walked around and did the same. Once comfortable beneath the blankets, they held onto one another closely.

"Do you think the kids will be okay without us?" Chandler asked her, brushing her white hair.

"Yeah, I think they will be." She smiled. "We've raised them pretty well, and they raised their children pretty well. I know what we've taught them will be carried on through each generation."

"I think so too, and I don't think I was such a bad father."

"Oh, no. You were an _excellent_ father, Chandler."

"And you were an excellent mother."

The two centenarians remained silent; staring into each other's aged eyes for countless minutes. When their lids began drooping, they knew this was it.

"Good night, Chandler." Monica yawned, kissing his lips one last time. "I love you."

"I love you too, Monica. Good night." He returned the kiss chastely.

They both rested their head on the same pillow and closed their eyes, ready for whatever the rest of eternity had in store for them. The current book may be finished, but the next was waiting to be written.


End file.
